Comprehension contented, Technology unsatisfied, Invention imminent, Invention accomplished, Technology satisfied,
Black clouds rolling in and throug… Tympanis pounding in a witch’s bre… Tempest racing in the northern sky Flocks of trumpets on the fly Hell is forming on the blackened s…
A trivial seed of future’s promine… a scrap blown away in the teeth of… a wandering into another world, a love affair of the natural kind, an answered plea of nature’s longi…
Last Sunday in Central Park was the worship service of all worship services, the jam of all jams, and the intimacy of all intimacies with the brotherhood of man and ultimately God. My h...
Poetry, My Love The story has no plot or ending It runs rampant through the pages It is oblivious to informative tho… But an ode to the love of words
The Hardening Infants breathe in the gentle air In that strange new paradise calle… As it opens its tender arms And catches them when they fall
From a family of a trillion plus s… from zealous tears into the dews o… the nervous clouds about in the lo… an assembly of the spirits as the… fragments ascending from the eyes…
He was a hardworking, modest young man who had a low paying job, but his ability to economize enabled him to pay his bills and still save a little of what was left over for himself. He...
The heavy pounding beat of the music quieted down to a slow romantic pace, and the lovers took to the floor with their partners. The moment finally arrived where they could dance cheek...
The song of the bagpipes cuts thro… over the moors and hills with an I… songs of the battles and songs of… songs that make me get up and danc… How can I deny that music does th…
Big hands are pulling me out of a… I’m scared and start to cry, Then look around. There is a big happy lady With tears in her eyes.
Mother Nature paints the rolling… the summer greens and winter frill… the flowery meadows and rising ver… and the snow on top as it poses an… It dances with the wind without a…
Forestial symposiums, subjects conferred, musical conversing, private jargon, words not wasted,
Thanks be to God, our conscience not only gives us ears to hear him, but pain in our souls to feel what wrongs we have done. It is our innate judicial system. It threatens, punishes, ...
Poetry in the air with eyes of a h… With telephoto lenses And metaphoric wings, And me in their sights, My contented self,